


Dating Is Not A Nine-To-Five

by tookumade



Series: Haikyuu!! MatsuHana Week - 2015 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4512432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tookumade/pseuds/tookumade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What if,” said Hanamaki in a whisper, “we walk in and there’s a yakuza member getting his tattoos done, and he tries to kill us because we saw his face?”</p><p>(written for Haikyuu!! MatsuHana Week - Day 3 - tattoos and flower shops, coffee shop)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dating Is Not A Nine-To-Five

“I wouldn’t mind working here,” said Hanamaki pensively as he looked around the café, heavy with the smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries. “It’s got a nice atmosphere. The staff look happy.”  
  
“That could just be their professional face, though,” said Matsukawa, sipping his flat white.  
  
“Please don’t shatter my delusions of working in a coffee shop.”  
  
“I’m just preparing you for the real world.”  
  
Hanamaki pulled a face at him and tapped some notes into his phone.  
  
“No, but really,” Matsukawa continued, “you should know better than to drag me along job hunting, if you were hoping for serious input.”  
  
Hanamaki shrugged. “I just figured it’d be more fun with a friend along. Help me think of scenarios for me to deal with, if you’re going to ‘prepare me for the real world’. What kind of things would I have to deal with in a café?”  
  
“Hmm…” Matsukawa looked thoughtful. “Okay, imagine that I am a customer and I have just spilt my coffee all over you.” He mimed splashing an imaginary cup over Hanamaki’s shirt. “What do you do in this situation?”  
  
“Yell in surprise?”  
  
“And after that?”  
  
“Um… I would… give you my best angelic smile and tell you not to worry about it?”  
  
“Your so-called angelic smile did not work, and I am now yelling at you and blaming you for my coffee spill–”  
  
“ _What?_ ”  
  
“–and demanding another coffee for free, to make up for this one.”  
  
Hanamaki rolled his eyes. “I would physically kick you out of the store.”  
  
“Not that I, Matsukawa Issei, would blame you, but I, asshole-customer-sama, would raise all hell if you did that, and then your boss would yell at you for making the café look bad. Come on, work with me here; how would you deal with me?”  
  
“ _Urgh_ , I guess I would… apologise, even though it wasn’t my fault? Offer to give them a replacement coffee, even though they deserve to drink ditchwater? Apologise to my boss for wasting café resources, and then hint that we should ban that customer from the café?”  
  
“I don’t actually know what’s the best solution, I’m just offering scenarios,” said Matsukawa, grinning over his coffee. Hanamaki threw his napkin at him. “Hey, don’t get discouraged; you’ll learn on the job. And I’m sure you’d get some really nice customers to balance it out, too.”  
  
“I don’t even have a resumé, though. Would they just hire a uni student like me?” asked Hanamaki uncertainly, looking over at the counter.  
  
“No idea. But give them your best smile and act like you’re talking to the Emperor, and you’ll probably be in for a good shot.”  
  
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” said Hanamaki, deadpan, making more notes in his phone. Matsukawa just snickered into his coffee.  
  
What had originally been a casual hang-out at Matsukawa’s place on this lazy Sunday, ended up with the two of them walking around the city to look for places to find part-time work for Hanamaki, whose parents had been not-so-subtly hinting that they wanted him to start working during the times he wasn’t slaving away at university. So far, their job hunting had lead them to the supermarket, past the diner where they sometimes went to eat burgers (“No, not here; I just know I’m going to be super-disillusioned from working here, and I don’t want delicious burgers to be ruined for me.”), a clothes store that Hanamaki sometimes shopped that, a shoe store, and a ramen shop, before they decided to take a break at the café they were currently sitting in, which seemed like a decent option.  
  
“If you work here, I expect a free upgrade every time I visit you,” said Matsukawa.  
  
“Oh, no, asshole-customer-sama, I’m banning you, remember?” Hanamaki retorted.  
  
“Wow, I am _so_ filing a complaint to management!”  
  
Job hunting woes aside, it was nice to take some time to hang out together and banter as usual, ignoring the small mountains of assignments that were due soon. They walked side-by-side and bumped into each other playfully as they left the café and continued their search.  
  
“Tattoo parlour…”  
  
Matsukawa snorted with laughter. “Of all places, you’re contemplating a _tattoo parlour?_ You _hate_ needles.”  
  
“I hate needles poking _me_ ,” said Hanamaki, “but–”  
  
“But you wouldn’t mind stabbing other people with needles. Gotcha.”  
  
“Why are we friends? Why do I put up with you?”  
  
“Why did you invite me along to your job-hunting mission?”  
  
“My bad,” said Hanamaki sarcastically. “I’ll never make the same mistake ever again.”  
  
Matsukawa just grinned and nudged him. “You’re learning on the job, I guess?” Hanamaki grinned back, despite himself.  
  
It turns out, both were too chicken to step too close to the tattoo parlour. The parlour itself wasn’t anything intimidating: a simple shopfront with white venetian blinds, and the shop’s name in kanji and hiragana splashed across its windows in black calligraphy with the outline of a large red koi curled around it, but they still found themselves frozen to the spot, several metres away from it.  
  
“What if,” said Hanamaki in a whisper, “we walk in and there’s a yakuza member getting his tattoos done, and he tries to kill us because we saw his face?”  
  
“I really wish you hadn’t said that,” Matsukawa whispered back. “Do you think they’re that bad? Wait, you seriously thought about actually going _inside?_ ”  
  
“I don’t know,” Hanamaki hissed. “I guess I might be curious to see what it’s like? But now I’m too scared.”  
  
“Why the _hell_ are we still here, then? Let’s _go_.”  
  
They power-walked away. It was only when they were more than a hundred metres away, that they slowed down, and sighed simultaneously in relief.  
  
“Okay, tattoo parlour: off my list,” said Hanamaki, tapping another note into his phone again. “I don’t think I’d have the patience for all that training, anyway.”  
  
“You know, aside from being too scared to actually go inside, I wouldn’t _really_ mind getting a tattoo,” said Matsukawa, now looking thoughtful. “I mean, my parents would disown me, and society would probably think I’m a criminal or part of the yakuza and all that, but… I don’t know, I could get something small and easy to hide, maybe?”  
  
“What would you get?”  
  
“No idea. It’s just a thought; I’m not sure I would want to get something so permanent, honestly.”  
  
“Get my name,” said Hanamaki with a mock-serious look on his face. “I deserve it for putting up with you for so long. Get it tattooed on your arm. Very manly. Oh, on your wrist! Very symbolic.”  
  
“What, you want me to get ‘dumbass’ tattooed on my– _ow!_ ”  
  
They only stopped their play-fight when a group of old grannies walked past them and collectively made disapproving ‘ _tch_ ’ noises.  
  
“In another universe, maybe,” said Matsukawa with a grin as they shoved each other one more time.  
  
They continued walking, occasionally gesturing at shops that looked vaguely suitable for Hanamaki to work in, which were usually shot down quickly for one reason or another.  
  
”Pet shop?”  
  
“Cats don’t like you.”  
  
“That’s not true!”  
  
“Bookshop? Nah, you’d be too distracted by the manga section and forget to serve customers.”  
  
“That’s not– okay, _maybe_ it’s true–”  
  
“That restaurant?”  
  
“Nah, they charged me for gyoza once and I never received it, and they insisted I did. I still hold a grudge for that. _Ohh_ , the bakery!”  
  
“You’d probably have to wake up at the crack of dawn every day that you work, _and_ you’d probably end up eating everything.”  
  
“Damn, you suck at support, you know that?”  
  
“I’m just looking out for your sugar-levels. Oh, hey–” Matsukawa nudged him and nodded to a small shop up ahead. “A florist.”  
  
“Me? Work in a flower shop?” said Hanamaki a little dubiously.  
  
“Hey, it’s already in your family name. It could be your ultimate calling.”  
  
“I know nothing about flowers…”  
  
“Right, and you totally know anything about tattooing people,” said Matsukawa sarcastically. “Let’s have a look; at least a florist is less likely to kill us. Maybe.” He dragged Hanamaki by the collar towards the shop.  
  
The shop had a friendly feel to it; well-lit with warm, bright lights; several types of leaves and colourful blossoms lined the walls in four-tier step-shelves; buckets of fresh mixed bouquets clustered across half the store. Hanamaki gave a thoughtful hum.  
  
“While we’re here, I should get some flowers to decorate at home,” said Matsukawa. “The ones in the dining area are drying up… help me choose. That can be your task.” Hanamaki shrugged.  
  
“Roses are too dramatic for your kind of house, so we can count them out, I guess?” he said. “How about these… what are they… dahlias?”  
  
“Too bright,” said Matsukawa. “My mother likes softer colours.”  
  
“Then these…”  
  
They pointed and prodded at several different kinds, keeping their voices low just in case the florist on duty got insulted and really did try to injure them with her floral shears. Eventually, they walked out with a bouquet of soft pink amaryllises and white camellias cradled in Matsukawa’s arms, both from Hanamaki’s suggestion.  
  
“They’re exactly my mother’s types of flowers, she’ll love them. See? You’re pretty good at this,” said Matsukawa.  
  
“All I did was pick them out. I’m sure it’s a lot more complicated working there than just that. I’ll keep it in mind, though,” said Hanamaki, tapping at his phone again. “Hey, it’s getting late, we should start heading back, huh?”  
  
“Sure. We’ll go back to my place and you can grab you stuff and– hey! Kindaichi! Over here!”  
  
Not far ahead of them, the tall, spiky-haired boy jumped and whirled around, face lighting up at the sight of them.  
  
“Matsukawa-senpai! Hanamaki-senpai! Long time no see!”  
  
“Good to see you, Kindaichi,” said Hanamaki as they reached him, punching his shoulder lightly. “Did you get even taller?”  
  
“I think he did,” said Matsukawa with a grin. “Damn, don’t tell Iwaizumi.”  
  
“Great idea, I will _absolutely_ tell Iwaizumi.” Matsukawa nudged him, snickering.  
  
“A-Are you two on a date?” said Kindaichi, eyeing the flowers in Matsukawa’s arms.  
  
There was a stunned silence. A brilliant red flush crept across Kindaichi’s face.  
  
“A… date?” Hanamaki repeated blankly.  
  
“Us?” Matsukawa added, equally blankly.  
  
Kindaichi’s face flushed even redder, if that was somehow possible. “N-N-Never mind! Sorry for assuming! I’ll leave you two to your date– _I mean_ , I’ll just… go now! It was nice seeing you again!”  
  
And he ran off, leaving Matsukawa and Hanamaki to stare after him in bewildered silence.  
  
“Date?” repeated Matsukawa at last, looking at Hanamaki, who shrugged.  
  
“Did we really just go on one?” he asked.  
  
“I _am_ holding flowers,” said Matsukawa, giving his bouquet a little shake for emphasis. “Lots of people might going to get the wrong idea.”  
  
There was a moment of silence. Hanamaki just raised his eyebrows thoughtfully.  
  
“Well,” said Matsukawa, “I don’t know if _wrong idea_ is the right term for it…”  
  
“From an outsider’s point of view,” said Hanamaki slowly, “I guess we kind of _did_ go on a date, huh?”  
  
“Wanna do it again?”  
  
“What, date?”  
  
“Yeah, it was fun.”  
  
Hanamaki shrugged. “Okay. Let’s do it again.”  
  
“Is this _really_ a date if we’re so casual about it?”  
  
“Science is still researching. I’m ok with that, though. Come job hunting with me again next Sunday?”  
  
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Sure.”  
  
They looked at each other, and slow grins crept across their faces before they looked away against hastily. Matsukawa adjusted the bouquet of flowers in his arms, and Hanamaki nudged him a little as they continued walking the rest of the way back to their bus stop, now elbow-to-elbow, and unable to stop smiling. This was quite out-of-the-blue, but… well, it could work.  
  
“You are _so_ getting my name tattooed on your wrist.”  
  
“ _Hell no_.”

—————

**Author's Note:**

> (sorry Kindaichi)


End file.
